


new found softness

by indefensibleselfindulgence



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: (not really though), Canon Typical Weirdness, Casual Sex, Character Study, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 06:51:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17555465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indefensibleselfindulgence/pseuds/indefensibleselfindulgence
Summary: Sometimes he brought over cider, sometimes he brought over mulled wine, and sometimes, when Indrid was feeling particularly indulgent, he'd bring over champagne and a box of condoms, and they'd keep warm enough that they didn't even need extra blankets.It had become somewhat of a routine.And Duck really didn't mind it.





	new found softness

**Author's Note:**

> listen sometimes you agonize over writing for weeks and sometimes you write 2000+ words of monsterfucking in 2 days
> 
> not beta'd

He opens the door without even looking through the peephole.  
  
Indrid brushes past him, shivering like he has a few times before when his generators went out. The first time he had offered, Indrid made some display of not wanting to impose, that if it came to that, he could just bunk up in a motel room. Duck told him not to waste his money, and that was that.  
  
Winter kept going, vicious this year, and no matter how many times Duck kept insisting on buying Indrid a new generator, Indrid kept showing up at Duck's house. He didn't mind. He really didn't mind. They determined Indrid was his friend while they clung to each other in sub-zero temperatures, and it was nice, he couldn't complain.  
  
Really nice.  
  
Sometimes he brought over cider, sometimes he brought over mulled wine, and sometimes, when Indrid was feeling particularly indulgent, he'd bring over champagne and a box of condoms, and they'd keep warm enough that they didn't even need extra blankets.  
  
It had become somewhat of a routine.  
  
And Duck really didn't mind it.  
  
He got to be indulgent too, and it's so rare to find people who didn't mind his predilections. Even rarer, well, it used to be rarer he supposes, to find an actual literal monster who was interested in him. Casually. In a friend way.  
  
A very indulgent friend way.  
  
They have their routine, either way.  
  
Indrid shows up when he gets too cold, Duck pours Winnie extra breakfast, so she leaves them alone in the morning while Indrid warms up in the shower. They drink maybe a glass of whatever Indrid brought with him and then they enjoy each other's mutual company once or twice before Indrid is too tired to move and Duck catches the time and realizes when he has to get up for work the next morning.  
  
They don't talk a lot during their process. Mostly Indrid making sure that he's not accidentally crushing him or suffocating him or murdering him- he's really very considerate.  
  
Duck has gotten used to falling asleep next to him too. Cuddling and letting Indrid leech body warmth from him was actually a pretty great way to sleep. Never gets too warm, and it's really very nice to wake up to a cool human-sized pillow sleeping on top of him.  
  
The first time Indrid took his glasses off in his trailer home, Duck almost gagged.  
  
He thought the transition would be smoother, more fluid, a bit more magic and a bit less torture porn with the sound of bones snapping, at least.  
  
There's something viscerally uncomfortable about watching reality and physics cave to the whims of a big moth... man. But then his sword has a mouth and a tongue and it can talk without vocal cords or lungs, so maybe he's just being pedantic.  
  
Now, he's used to it. Indrid can shift between a massive hulking thing and a slip of a man in a few seconds, and lately, Duck's even been fond of watching. There's something beautiful in the displacement of matter the way Indrid does it.  
  
(It helps that he knows its all bullshit now, that physics are more a suggestion and less of a codified set of rules, but whatever.)  
  
It's cool.  
  
Indrid hasn't been over since Minerva's-  
  
Well, he's only 70% sure she's dead. Some part of him is pretty sure a lady like Minerva wasn't going to kick it no matter what, meteor or planetary collapse or black hole. She'd be distracted, busy probably, and that's fair. He'd be pretty busy if a comet fell on him too.  
  
Indrid hasn't been over since Minerva's disappearance, though.  
  
Duck's body hasn't really been agreeable since Minerva's disappearance. About anything. Running? Can't do it for more than a few seconds without getting winded. Fighting? His reflexes have been shot to shit. General sturdiness?  
  
He's never had to put up with shit like paper cuts before, that's for sure. He bruises easier now too, and when he sleeps weird, he can't turn his head organically for half the day. Caffeine makes him jittery, his ears just ring sometimes, and he's pretty sure he's allergic to cats.  
  
He's really not sure how his very human, very fragile, very, and he can admit it he's an adult, very weak body is going to handle his-  
  
His acquired predilections or his indulgent friendship.  
  
He hasn't talked to anyone, but Leo about his new found... softness... yet.  
  
He hears the shower turn on and feeds his cat because there's no reason not too.  
  
Indrid has to know, right? That's the whole point of the future vision? He wouldn't come over if he didn't know-  right?  
  
He's in bed, blanket up to his shoulders when Indrid's shape obscures the door.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
“Hi.”  
  
Indrid's naked, save for the glasses and Duck swallows. Then he doesn't know- doesn't know or doesn't care, Duck isn't sure which one stresses him out more. Indrid shivers, even if he was just in the shower. The whole body heat thing is really unsustainable for bugs, apparently.  
  
If he ever had to get him a gag gift maybe he'd get him a sunlamp. Unless that's insensitive- that might be insensitive-  
  
“You look distracted.”  
  
“Just uh- Just thinking. About stuff.”  
  
“Stuff?” Indrid's head tilts, and his glasses threaten to slip down his nose. “And things, maybe?”  
  
“Yeah maybe.” Duck sits up and throws the quilt at the foot of his bed at Indrid before he catches a cold. “Listen- I need to talk to you about something.”  
  
Indrid's human body is really thin- Duck forgets sometimes. It's really obvious when he's dwarfed by an entire quilt though.  
  
“You alright?”  
  
“You can't tell?” Duck pats the spot next to him, and when Indrid sits down, he tugs his regular blanket into Indrid's lap. Better safe than sorry with him. Giving Mothman pneumonia would be funnier if it didn't already happen once.  
  
“I'm not psychic- I mean. I can't read your mind. I mean-”  
  
“I'm just going to-”  
  
“Yeah, that's probably for the best.” Indrid stares at him before closing his eyes. “Oh.” He says. “Huh.”  
  
“Do you want me to-”  
  
“You're either going to wimp out, try and lie, or tell me that you can't put out anymore?”  
  
“That's not- I mean it kind of is- I uh-” Duck swallows. “I'm not exactly uh-”  
  
There's really no easy way to say that he's not strong anymore. That he's not special. That the only thing was making him strong and special was a, arguably, pretty nice war criminal light years away who fed him power through a psychic connection that stopped because a space rock fell on her. Well- he could say that.  
  
But then he'd look like he lost his mind.  
  
(He is talking to actual literal Mothman though.)  
  
“Duck?”  
  
“Here.” It's easier just to show him anyway. “I'm gonna turn the lights on-” He reaches over before Indrid's cold shaky hand lands on his shoulder.  
  
“I can see in dim light.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“I didn't tell you that?”  
  
“Didn't come up, I guess?” He holds his hands out- the ones covered in colorful band-aids he borrowed from Juno because he just- paper wasn't supposed to be that hard to handle, okay?  
  
Indrid is quiet for a while, taking Duck's hands in his own and running his thumb over the bandaids. His nails nudge the edges but not hard enough to actually move them.  
  
“Didn't know you were a big Hello Kitty fan.” Duck almost wants to yank his hands back.  
  
“Juno was babysitting her niece okay- That's not the point. I got- I got others.” He shifts around and tugs the right leg of his boxers higher up his thigh where a massive bruise is slowly turning brown. Bashed it against his own desk while he was getting coffee – which burned his mouth by the way – “And here.” He doesn't even really have to roll his sleeve up to show where Beacon whacked him earlier.  
  
He tried to practice with Leo- tried being the operative word here.  
  
“Well shit.”  
  
“I'm clumsy now.” He frowns and tries to keep the irritation and sadness out of his voice. It's both at the same time too- he's had a confusing few days.  
  
“You're just- I don't know. Getting used to this.”  
  
“That's just a nice way of calling me clumsy.”  
  
“Yeah, a little.” Indrid pats his knee. “I totally misread the vibe huh? I can- I can leave.”  
  
“I'm not kicking you int a blizzard- I'm not kicking you out at all- just.” He mumbles the rest of it and prays to whatever listens that Indrid doesn't make him repeat the rest of it.  
  
“Oh.” Indrid pointed looks away- considerate really.  
  
“I know you wouldn't- I mean intentionally- you wouldn't hurt me or whatever but-”  
  
“That's- Yeah. Course not.”  
  
“So.” Duck shrugs. Casual. Cool and casual. “You should still stay here. Though.”  
  
Indrid smiles and takes his glasses off.  
  
Captivating- just like always.  
  
He really needs to learn even an ounce of self-control when it comes to stuff like this. His face feels warm- his chest feels warm too.  
  
“Cute.” Fuzzy fur rubs against his face and Duck is all but pushed on his back. “You blush now.”  
  
“Oh come on.” He groans. Indrid laughs- a twinkling distant kind of sound. “I'm a bad enough liar.”  
  
“There's always room for regression.”  
  
“You know- Pretty sure that's not how the saying goes.”  
  
His big form settles at Duck's side- between the wall and him, and it's just as warm as it usually is. Indrid's antenna twitch and his arms rub up and down Duck's sides. Getting his smell. Which was weird but he's obviously not one to judge.    
  
“Only pretty sure.”  
  
Duck rolls his eyes.  
  
He tries to go to sleep.  
  
He really does.  
  
Indrid isn't sleeping either.  
  
“Routine huh.” He says, like a moron.  
  
“I can sleep on the couch.”  
  
“You'll be cold on the couch.”  
  
Duck's wholly and entirely the only one to blame when he starts rubbing up against him.  
  
Let it never be said he didn't know what he want's though.  
  
Indrid's weird hands push up Duck's shirt, and he yanks it the rest of the way over his head and then on to the floor. The fuzz feels good against his skin. Indrid is all-encompassing, a solid wall of fluff to his back. The ridges of his carapace are cool to his skin, but not for long enough to actually complain.  
  
“You don't want to?” Indrid asks. “Just- to be sure.”  
  
“Well-” Duck mumbles. “Didn't say that either.”  
  
There's weight to every action now- the past ease of physical comfort out the window which feels extremely bullshit but he doesn't mind that much when second and third hands glide against his skin. Rub and pinch feather light, scared to put any real conviction behind it-  
  
“Okay?” Indrid asks, and his voice is whispery- light too.  
  
He's somehow never figured Mothman to be that strong- but now-  
  
“Hey-” Duck twists in bed to stare into his massive eyes. “If you hurt me I'll tell you.” Duck's fingers trace the grooves of the hard plate, dipping just a little past it and feeling Indrid's entire form shiver. “Okay?”  
  
“Mm-”  
  
Not as many fingers are there should be rush up his spine.  
  
A few minutes of heavy petting later and Duck can feel it press between his legs. His own heat is heavy in his belly, heavy between his legs, _wet_ , and two sets of hands tug his boxers off.  
  
“Just-” He doesn't know what he wants- just that he wants- he wants for sure. And judging by the twitching and heat and the tiny barely there beating of Indrid's wings it's entirely mutual. “Just-”  
  
“Careful.” Indrid rasps.  
  
No eyelids for him to hid behind.  
  
Being the center of undivided attention definitely doesn't go to his head at all.  
  
“Yeah- careful.” He lets Indrid's weird dick settle between his thighs. Now that he's not hiding behind a shield he had gotten so used to he can appreciate just how... proportionally appropriate it is. Big. It's fucking big and the fact that he's had it in him multiple times is-  
  
It makes him real wet just to think about it if he has to admit it.  
  
Indrid shudders when he must feel it- cock rubbing up against him- prodding at the more sensitive skin that makes Duck shudder too.  
  
“That's going to split me in fucking two.” He hisses- excitement, horniness, who knows what else dripping from his voice just like he's dripping between his legs.  
  
“Shit Duck-” Indrid hisses, and Duck shoves his face into Indrid's fuzz. “Fuck-”  
  
“Just-” God- think about it inside of him just- Makes him light head. He rolls his hips against it and chases the way it feels when it rubs up against him- the drag of it between his thighs. “Like this-” He mumbles and rolls his hips again. “Between- yeah-”  
  
At least Mothman doesn't make him say it out loud.  
  
At least he's got that going for him.  
  
Indrid ruts against his thighs, nudging up against him, constant stimulation against his clit that makes him twitch and whine in a way he hasn't before- at least he doesn't think he has before. He reaches around until he can feel Indrid's wings twitch against his hand, at the thing shell protecting his spine.  
  
It makes his antennae jerk around too.  
  
“You smell good-” Indrid whispers- fangs clicking against each other. “You feel so good-”  
  
“You too-”  
  
It becomes sort of a languid thing- Duck rolling his hips and Indrid trying to stay immobile and let Duck ride out his fill. Until Indrid can't stand the slow rocking and he hammers his hips back and forth, and Duck's fingers dig into the sensitive skin around Indrid's carapace, both of them panting and whining.  
  
Duck comes first- silent and slow, orgasm leaving him a gasping twitching mess and Indrid follows suit- spilling on the sheets behind Duck, hands, all six of his hands, rubbing tiny little shapes into Duck's skin.  
  
“That was- That was nice,” Indrid says after Duck comes back clean from the bathroom.  
  
“Very nice.” Duck nods and gets back into bed with him, face straight into fuzz. “Sorry- If I was- if I was weird earlier.”  
  
“It's- You're going through some stuff, it's understandable.” A hand pats his back. “Really.”  
  
“Yeah.” He can close his eyes and bask in the warm afterglow. “Stay for breakfast?”  
  
“Sure.” And before Duck even opens his mouth, Indrid laughs. “I'll do the laundry for you.”

Duck smiles.

"Can I spin for breakfast in bed?"

"You can try."  
  
“Sick.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always encouraged and very very very appreciated
> 
> talk[ to me here](http://iamalivenow.tumblr.com/)


End file.
